When The Black Rushed Over
by ATudorRose
Summary: Desperate to escape her world of grey, Lady Mary goes missing. Will Anna and Matthew be in time to save her? Slight Series 2 spoliers, nothing really major. Please R&R!
1. Part 1

**So, this is set in a semi-alternate season 2 where, while Lavinia came into the picture, Carlisle never did. This is then after Lavinia's exit and Matthew has not yet been told about Pamuk. This was supposed to be a one-shot but I got a bit carried away. Not sure yet whether or not I'm going to continue this, so thoughts and comments – as well as advice – is as always, heaven sent. Please excuse any spelling or grammar errors; as I am currently without a beta. *Insert all the usual disclaimers here.* Hope you enjoy!**

Grey. Her whole life had descended into shades of grey. No color, no light, just grey. She ghosted the halls of the great house as if she were a lost spirit, forever denied the safety of heaven or even the comfort of death. She felt nothing. She was lost to the world, lost to the kind smiles of her mother, the sneers of her sister, and the pitying looks of her grandmother, lost to the worried glances of her kind father. On the rare occasion that a flash of color would burst through the grey, it was always blue. Not just any blue, but the beautiful ice blue found only in the eyes of the one person who could save her. But he wouldn't – of that she was sure – and when the black rushed over, she succumbed without resistance, glad to escape the grey.

Lady Mary's bell never rang that morning. When Anna walked in to find the empty bed, she forced herself to keep calm. She must have gotten up in the night and fallen asleep somewhere she told herself, trying to suppress the growing panic as she found more and more rooms empty. Giving up, Anna couldn't help but run to find Carson.

"Mr. Carson!" Anna yelled when she spotted him across the hall.

"Anna? Whatever is – "

"Lady Mary is missing. When she never rang I went up to wake her and the bed was empty. I've looked everywhere, but I can't find her." Anna looked close to tears.

"Don't worry; I'm sure she is around here somewhere," Carson assured her even though his own face had gone rather ashen, "Let's gather a few and we can look together. It will be easier that way."

After another fruitless search, Carson was forced to inform Lord Grantham. He could no longer pretend that this was a light matter.

"My Lord?" Carson said as he walked into the breakfast room looking undoubtedly frightened.

"Carson, what is it?" Robert asked, taking in Carson's expression and becoming immediately worried.

"My Lord, Lady Mary is missing. Anna told me that she wasn't in her bed this morning and we have searched the house, but she is not to be found."

Lord Grantham's knife dropped to the floor with a clatter. There was a moment of crushing silence before Robert sprung into action.

"We must find her!" he yelled, under no illusion about the gravity of this situation and sending his chair flying as he stood up. "I want every person in this house looking, every kitchen maid, and every last man. We won't stop until she is found!"

Everyone dropped whatever they were doing and began to search every cupboard and corner. As Anna looked in the library for the hundredth time, a possibility struck her. She tore from the house, streaking over the lawns and hills until she reached the very edge of the estate and the old willow came into view. The ground was sodden from a storm the night before and by the time Anna reached the old branches that brushed the ground, her boots and skirts were covered in mud. Sides heaving, she pushed her was through the leaves into the secret haven within. Lady Mary had shown her this place before, and its beauty never ceased to amaze Anna. The branches feel to the earth in a perfect circle around the trunk, completely sheltering the lucky explorer from the outside world. The sunlight streamed through the leaves, casting an eerie green light and creating dancing shadows across the earth and the lone figure that lay upon it. Anna dropped to her knees at the side of her fallen lady; tears falling as she gently pulled tangled hair from Mary's face. Her hair and gossamer nightgown were still soaked from the rain and although her exposed skin had dried in the morning sun, it had taken on a deathly grey tinge that was emphasized by her lips, which had turned blue from the cold. She drew in fragile, rattling breaths, the slight rise and fall of her chest betraying her underlying strength. Anna shook her, desperately trying to wake her. The relief she had felt upon finding Mary had been quickly over shadowed by Mary's unresponsive and frozen state.

"Lady Mary please!" she begged, "Please Mary," she whispered, forgetting formality and crying over the skeletal form of her only true friend.

"Matthew."

The name fell from Mary's lips, just barely distinguishable, and Anna's breath caught in her throat as she listened closely.

"Matthew," she mumbled again, slightly louder.

"I'll get him m'lady, I'll go get him," Anna promised her. She stood and pulled off some of her petticoats, wrapping them around Mary to leave her with at least a little warmth. Anna emerged from under the tree and looked around, deciding what to do. It only made sense to run into the village, to Crawley House. It would be quicker than going back to Downton and that's where she would find Mr. Crawley, who was perhaps the only one who could really help. Without the extra weight of her skirts, Anna ran faster than ever before, flying into the village and pounding with all of her might on the front door of Crawley House.

"Anna?" Mosely asked in surprise as he opened the door to the disheveled maid.

"Mr. Mosely you have to help me please!" she panted.

"Whatever is the matter?" Mosely asked, alarmed by Anna's desperate tone.

"Where is Mr. Crawley?"

"In the sitting room I believe. Anna what's going on?" he questioned again as she pushed in past him.

"The time for explanations is later. Quick, fetch me the warmest blankets you can find. Hurry!" she called over her shoulder as she ran off down the hall to the sitting room. She burst through the door to find Matthew and Isobel's eyes already on her, having heard the commotion in the hallway.

"Anna - ?" Mrs. Crawley started but was quickly cut off.

"Mr. Crawley sir, please you have to come right away sir," she cried.

"What's going on?" he asked, standing up.

"Here are the blankets Anna," Mosely said as he entered the room and handed Anna a large stack of thick blankets.

"Mosely do you know –?" Matthew started but was interrupted by Anna who was starting to cry again.

"There is no time to explain! Lady Mary is in danger!" she shouted. Without another word, Matthew ran from the room to get his coat, finally seeming to grasp the severity of the situation. Still breathing hard, Anna turned to face Mrs. Crawley.

"Could you send for Dr. Clarkson and tell him to go to Downton?"

"Of course dear," Mrs. Crawley replied.

"And could you tell him that if Mr. Crawley and I are not yet back, we will be shortly?"

"Right away."

"Thank you, m'lady." With that, Anna turned and flew out of the room, meeting Matthew by the front door.

"Let's go," Matthew said.

"This way," Anna answered and they ran out. Back through the village, ignoring all the questioning looks, and back through the fields they sprinted while Anna tried to briefly explain.

"This morning, when I went in to wake Lady Mary," she panted, "she wasn't in her bed. We looked everywhere; everyone in the house was searching. Then I remembered this place on the edge of the grounds that she was fond of hiding away in so I ran out and there she was; unconscious in the dirt and dressed in only her nightgown, freezing to death. She was so far from the house it was faster to come to you, and sir, your name was the only response I could get from her."

"Oh my god," Matthew breathed.

Just then Anna fell down due to the blankets obscuring her vision. Matthew stopped to help but she raised her head and told him to go on.

"I'll catch up. She is just over the hill, under the big willow tree – you can't miss it. Go!"

Finally knowing where he was going, Matthew took off as if the Germans were once again at his heels; except this time, he was protecting someone else instead of himself. Hurtling towards the willow with incredible speed, he crashed through the branches and skid to a stop in front of Mary, dropping to his knees at her side. She looked other worldly, swathed in white cotton; hair matted and dirty, lips a delicate shade of blue. Even like this, her beauty made his heart skip a beat. He pulled her up into his arms and tucked her head into his chest as it rolled back, shivering as his fingers brushed he icy skin. He rocked her in his arms and listened to her faint breathing, murmuring soft apologies and casting a silent prayer. He knew he could have prevented this and now all that was left was to beg the limp girl in his arms to give him another chance. Anna arrived moments later and they immediately set to work cocooning Mary in the blankets, wrapping her almost as if she were a baby.

"Are these skirts?" Matthew asked as he repositioned the cotton.

"Yes sir. She was only in her nightgown and I had to provide some warmth, if only a little. It was all I had."

"I'm impressed."

Once she was sufficiently wrapped, Matthew lifted her in his arms and his heart soared as she snuggled in closer to his chest.

"Anna, run ahead and warn them. Make sure everything is ready," Matthew said.

"Yes sir." She answered before taking off. Matthew watched her, admiring her loyalty to Mary. Even swathed in blankets, Mary was alarmingly light and Matthew walked as fast as he could whilst trying not to jostle her. Looking down at her, he couldn't help but compare her to a fallen angel. She was _his_ fallen angel. He pressed on.

"Matthew."

He looked down in disbelief coupled with elation as Mary's eyes fluttered open and met his own.

Everything was blurry and distorted as she fought against the weight of her eyelids, desperately trying to bring the face above her into focus. As the lines sharpened, she took in his face, creased with worry but still smiling, and those crystal blue eyes. She welcomed the warmth surrounding her and tried a faint smile when it dawned on her that she was nestled safely in his arms. His mouth was moving but she couldn't hear him, she seemed to be lost within her own body, unable to reach her senses. Strangely though, this didn't really alarm her. She simply contented herself to watching his lips move and relaxing against his inviting form, enjoying the gentle sway of his stride. He stopped talking and looked at her expectantly for a moment before his brow creased with worry again. At first Mary was confused; why was he so worried when she was perfectly happy? But then she realized - he was waiting for a reply to whatever he said. She concentrated hard to find her voice and spoke the only word that she could call to the front of her mind.

"Matthew," she whispered, surprised at how weak her voice sounded. Speaking seemed to flip a switch inside her, so that when he spoke again she could hear him properly.

"Mary," he breathed, the sweetest sound in the world, "I believe you've caused quite a commotion," he told her, smiling and trying not to reveal the gravity of the situation. His words confused her again; her mind could only process what was going on around her at that exact moment, like the fact that she was warm and in his arms. Unsure what to say but wanting to reply all the same, Mary focused on voicing the only coherent thought running through her mind.

"I'm very happy… that you are… with me," she murmured. Matthew could see the amount of effort she put into choosing her words and smiled at the enormous meaning behind them. She smiled back at him, and it was the most honest and unguarded look she had ever bestowed upon him. Never before had he seen such blatant affection from her, for the first time, nothing was obscured or hidden behind those big brown eyes. It was a simple gesture, but that made it even sweeter. Her smile grew as she watched his brow soften, pleased that she had alleviated some of the sorrow in his handsome features. Mary shivered against him as a cold gust of wind blew across them and Matthew looked up to see the Abbey coming into view. Stepping up his pace again, he looked back down to see that Mary had closed her eyes again.

"Stay with me," she mumbled and Matthew tightened his grip on her as she fell asleep. Looking towards the house, Matthew could see Lord Grantham, Anna and Carson all waiting on the front steps of the house. Lord Grantham ran out as soon as he saw them.

"Oh my baby," he nearly cried looking at Mary's face whilst keeping pace with Matthew as he crossed the last yards to the house with fierce determination.

"Show me where to put her," he said as he crossed the threshold.

"Right this way," a very harried looking Carson replied before leading him up the main stairs and what seemed like endless hallways, until he finally ushered them into Mary's bedroom. Matthew gently lay her down on the bed before collapsing into a nearby chair, feeling the pain set into his back. Lord Grantham brought up Dr. Clarkson who had been waiting in the library, and in the ensuing flurry of action, no one noticed Matthew remaining in his place. He took the opportunity to look around the room. It was very grand, furnished with deep, rich colors and dominated by a four-poster bed in the center. The décor suggested a strong character and great power, exactly right for Mary. Anna had set to work putting her into a clean, warm nightgown (Matthew honorably averted his eyes) and got her under the covers with a practiced skill that worried Matthew. How many times had she done this? Dr. Clarkson preformed a few tests without disturbing her sleep, with very worrying results, and then tried to wake her. It was to no avail, however, and all he succeeded in getting out of Mary was a terrible coughing fit. Dr. Clarkson sighed.

"What is it?" Matthew asked, speaking for the first time and startling the doctor.

"Mr. Crawley, I didn't realize that you were still here. Come down, I will tell the whole family together," he replied. Matthew didn't budge as Clarkson walked towards the door.

"I'm not leaving her. Tell me now," Matthew practically commanded, not bothering to be polite. The doctor closed his eyes and said quietly, "Spanish flu," and listened to Matthew and Anna's sharp intake of breath before walking out and closing the door behind him. Matthew's eyes met Anna's and saw his own terror clearly reflected in her own eyes, standing motionless on the other side of the bed. Those two words had shattered what little he had left in him, rendering him completely speechless. They stared at each other in wordless fear for what seemed like an eternity until they heard a shriek from downstairs.

"Dr. Clarkson must have told them," Anna whispered in response to the scream. Matthew could only nod. Anna's head snapped down to Mary as she began to toss and turn restlessly. Sweat began to drip down Mary's face and Anna quickly set about getting a cloth to cool her down. As she came back with the cloth, she saw Matthew's helpless face and offered it to him.

"Would you like to sir?"

"Yes," Matthew answered, seeming to take comfort in the idea of actually doing something to help, "thank you Anna."

With a small smile, Anna bobbed her head and began to move about the room while Matthew pulled his chair over to the edge of the bed and gently started to wipe her face.

"Thank you for coming to me," Matthew said quietly. Anna paused and looked up, meeting his eyes,

"I couldn't have trusted anyone else."

Matthew looked down to see Mary's fingers brushing against his own. He took a hold of her hand, glancing up to meet blurry eyes staring back at him. He gave her the most reassuring smile he could muster, faltering slightly as she drew in a rattling breath.

"Matthew…" she breathed.

"Shhh, darling," Matthew leaned in closer.

"Matthew don't leave me," she rasped as her eyes fell shut again.

"Don't worry, I won't," he whispered, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze.

"Good," she mumbled, weakly returning the squeeze.

"I will never leave you again," Matthew promised, but Mary was already gone.

**TBC?**

**Aren't you just itching to press that cute little review button…?**


	2. Part 2

**Here it is; the second part! As always, reviews are heaven sent & much appreciated. I hope you enjoy!**

Never had the house been so silent. Mary coaxed her eyes open to see her bedroom around her, dark and meticulously clean. Everything was exactly how it should have been, with the exception of two things. The first was Anna, who was slumped in an armchair with her eyes closed, and second was the appearance of a rather peculiar object beside her bed. It looked to be a sort of army cot, with the added surprise of having Matthew sprawled out on top of it, arms hanging over the sides as he slept. He had on light pants, a linen shirt and waistcoat and the wrinkled state of his outfit entertained the idea that he had not changed in a few days. His shoes had been carelessly kicked to the floor at the foot of his cot. What was he doing in here? As confused as Mary was, she could not bring herself to be upset or worried about it; just his presence was oddly comforting. Trying to recall the events prior to falling asleep (that's what she assumed had happened), all she managed to do was bring up brief images that flashed behind her eyes: gliding down the main stairs in the dead of the night; the earth beneath her feet as she padded barefoot across the grass; the icy rain on her exposed flesh; laying under the leaves of the old weeping willow; Matthew's clear blue eyes gazing down at her, his features etched with worry; whispered truths and the gentle sway of his stride; reaching for his fingers as she fought to remain conscious. Mary watched his peaceful slumber; noticing that even in sleep Matthew still looked troubled. She admired the slight rise and fall of his chest, the way his light blond hair flopped across his forehead. Kept company by the two people dearest to her heart, Mary felt an incredible sense of peace settle in, despite the pounding in her head and the exhaustion that threatened to pull her under again. A rustling from the other side of the room caught her attention. Unwilling to take her eyes off Matthew, Mary listened to the sound of swishing material, shortly joined by the soft noise of quiet footsteps. Anna walked into view and smiled down at Matthew, gently lifting one of his arms back up onto the cot. She bent down to pick something up off the floor. When she straightened up again, Anna placed a small object in Matthew's open palm, her kind smile widening as his fingers instantly closed around it. Mary recognized the small stuffed dog she had given Matthew on the platform all those years ago.

"Mary!"

Mary glanced up from Matthew to see Anna staring right at her with tears in her eyes.

"Good morning Anna," Mary whispered, unable to raise her voice any louder.

"Morning m'lady," Anna answered with a laugh, overcome with relief that she had finally woken. Mary's eyes dropped to Matthew again, still clutching the somewhat scruffy old toy. Anna's eyes followed Mary's.

"Do you wish me to wake him, m'lady?"

"We should let him rest."

"I believe he would want to be roused. He did say he wanted to speak with you before your family was called in."

Mary's stomach fluttered.

"Very well then," she whispered. Anna bent over and began to gently shake Matthew.

"Mr. Crawley, sir, Mr. Crawley wake up!"

After a moment, Matthew's eyes flew open and he sat up frantically, his face immediately creasing with worry as he turned towards Mary.

"What happ –, " his panicked question died on his lips as he met Mary's eyes.

"Hello Matthew," Mary murmured; her voice still barely above a whisper.

"Oh thank God," he breathed, "Oh god you're alive. You made it." Matthew swung his legs off the cot and knelt at the side of Mary's bed, tears threatening the corners of his eyes. He clasped her hand and dropped his head forward onto the bed with a strangled laugh of relief. Mary was again confused, why was he so amazed that she was alive? Had she come close to death?

"Matthew," she rasped and he raised his head to look at her. She was shocked at the amount of affection she found in his eyes.

"Matthew, what's happened?"

The light in his eyes seemed to dissipate as if a large shadow had crossed his face.

"You caught the Spanish flu Mary."

"Was it very bad?"

"You've been unconscious for four days. The fever just kept climbing; it almost claimed your life a few times."  
>"But it didn't."<p>

"No, it didn't," he confirmed, a distinct admiration now evident in his features.

"And you were here all that time?" she asked.

"Yes I was," Matthew answered, blushing slightly.

"Why?"

Matthew searched her face, trying to gauge her feelings. He expected her usual cold distain, stubborn defiance, and famous haughtiness. But all he found was an honest curiosity; something that threw him slightly off guard. For the first time, straight up honesty seemed to be the best option.

"Because I promised you I would stay."

"You shouldn't have listened Matthew."

"Of course I should have."

"It was wrong of me to ask. What if you had gotten sick?"

"I would have stayed even if you haven't asked me too."

"Why?"

Her question bounced around in his head. It was simple enough, _why had he stayed?_ What had possessed him to fight so venomously to remain at her bedside for four days, refusing to even come down for dinner? In the end it all boiled down to one simple fact. The first time her breath had faltered, the first time he was told she would not make it, that lone, elusive fact had finally hit him with the force of a hurricane. He loved her. Matthew had denied it for years, over and over again, refused to accept that one simple fact until she was dying before his eyes. He had been absolutely terrified that he wouldn't be able to tell her, that she would die without ever knowing the depth of his true feelings. Mary had pulled through that night; had fought off death twice more in the days following, and now she was laying before him, waiting for an answer. _Why?_

"I love you," he whispered, brushing his lips to her thin fingers.

"Don't say that," she answered, tears forming in her eyes.

"Why ever not? It's the truth."

"You are too great for me Matthew. I don't deserve your love; I never have."

"Mary you've made mistakes, but so have I – "

"No Matthew," she interrupted, "I did something, made a mistake, long ago, something I never told you about."  
>"What?"<p>

Mary looked away from him for what felt like the first time since she had regained consciousness. It was time for the truth.

"Mary please. Tell me; though whatever it is, it won't matter. It couldn't possibly matter."

"But it does." She turned to face him again.

"Matthew, I am not virtuous."

"What?" Matthew gasped, surprised by her confession. It was certainly the last thing he had expected her to say.

"It happened years ago – long before you proposed. Kemal Pamuk, he found my room, I don't know how, and he, he wouldn't leave. And he, he just died. In here, in my bed – "

"Mary," Matthew cut her off. He could see the distress her confession was causing her and he didn't need to hear anymore. It didn't matter.

"I don't care about that. It doesn't matter to me. Maybe there is a time when it would have, but certainly not now. The things I've seen, the events of these last years, things have been put in perspective for me. I know what is important, and what's important to me is you – you; alive and with me. Let the past be the past; those days are gone and there is nothing we can do to change them. All we can do is move forward. Together." His face was honest, his voice soft. The earnest look in his eyes reminded her of the old Matthew, the sweet country solicitor, the man he had been until he had been forced to learn to hide his feelings just like the rest of them. What he was saying went against everything she had been taught to believe, but she couldn't help but be swayed by the power of his conviction. It was time to take a leap of faith.

"I love you too," was all she could say back, her weak voice wavering under the emotion. Upon hearing those words fall from Mary's lips, the world around him shattered. His world of grief and misery broke into a million shards of glass, falling at his feet and revealing a whole new world; a world that burnt with the intensity, all shinning down on him and his love – Mary. An irrepressible laugh broke free from his lips, the kind of giddy, joyful laugh that can only follow heart wrenching despair. It was infectious and they laughed together, entwining their fingers tightly. Still very weak, Mary could not laugh for long and simply settled for beaming at Matthew. Matthew's own laughter died down and he lifted their entwined fingers to his lips, lightly kissing each of her fingertips. Mary sighed in utter contentment, letting her eyelids close as she concentrated on the silky soft feel of Matthew's lips.

"My darling Mary," he breathed, marveling in the freedom to address her with such love and affection. He noticed the effort it took for her to open her eyes, and remembered that although the worst had passed, she was still very ill.

"My darling you need your rest. Why not go back to sleep?" he asked.

"If my condition was really as bad as you have told me, I must see my family," she responded weakly, now fighting viciously to stay awake, "You must go and get them."

"I will fetch them m'lady," Anna piped up as she reentered the room, having previously slipped out in order to give them some much needed privacy.

"Thank you Anna," Matthew and Mary chorused in union. With a small bob, Anna turned and left the room.

"That girl's loyalty is astounding," Matthew commented after the door closed.

"We've been through a bit together, and frankly, I've never had a better friend," Mary explained.

"She was the one who found you. She ran all the way to Crawley House to fetch me. You should have seen her, what a force of nature!"

Mary laughed, "She's made of strong stuff."

They fell quiet again and when Matthew thought that Mary was almost asleep, she spoke again.

"Matthew," she whispered, her voice betraying her true exhaustion, "you must promise me that you will get some proper rest, and food, now that I am better. No more sleeping on army cots."

"As you wish," he acquiesced, becoming aware of his own wariness. By the time her family arrived only moments later, Matthew had slumped forward on the bed and they were both deep in the peaceful slumber in years.

Over the next days, Mary's health rapidly recovered and she was soon back to walking around the grounds, yet no one made any move to end Matthew's stay at Downton. The two were inseparable. They spent their time reading books in the library, playing chess in the sitting room, and taking walks about the grounds. They found a surprising amount of enjoyment in their games of chess, finding that their equal intelligence was finally on an even plane. It didn't take long for them to launch into playing mind games, dragging out the matches to unimaginable lengths. During their games they were virtually silent, wordlessly plotting each other's downfall. Their walks were spent in playful debate or comfortable silence, but never really touching the heavy stuff, the issues that needed addressing. A week after Mary woke, Matthew jumped the gap.

"What happened that night Mary?" he asked, breaking the silence around them.

"Which night?" Mary countered slowly.

"The night you fell ill," he answered softly.

"Oh," Mary was relieved, that was not what she had been expecting. "Let us walk." The two of them rose from their bench and started across the grass, Mary taking the lead.

"These past months, since Lavinia's death, my whole world went grey. I couldn't find any drive or reason to fight form one day to the next; I couldn't find any color. For the first time, the Abbey lost its warmth. Suddenly I noticed how cold the house was, how imposing the walls were, how utterly trapped I was. My home had become my prison," Mary tried to explain as they strolled over another hill. Her eyes were glassy as she spoke, looking anywhere but Matthew.

"I woke up in the middle of the night feeling like I was being suffocated. I had to get out. Obviously I had nowhere to go, so I came here – my haven of sorts." As she finished, Matthew looked away from Mary and at the willow tree they were now standing in front of. It was the same willow tree he had found her under, and he had been so engrossed in her tale that he hadn't even noticed that they were approaching it. Mary smiled and pushed some of the thin branches back, creating a small space for them to walk through. Matthew ducked through the opening and listened crunching of leaves that indicated she had followed him. Again he was struck by the magic beauty of this hidden place. He took his time to admire the tiny kingdom around him, and realized that Mary was just as an integral part of its beauty as she had been on that dreadful morning a weak prior. Except this time, Mary had settled herself down at the base of the trunk, and she was sitting comfortably, smiling up at him as she gazed around in wonder. Once more she was in all white, and the green shadows dancing across her light dress and pale skin cast an enchanting illusion. His faerie queen; all she needed now was a flower in her hair. Matthew lent down to pick a few purple flowers that were growing amongst the grass and then knelt in front of Mary, tucking the soft petals into the folds of her intricate hairstyle. Mary smiled and lent into his hand as it came up to cup her cheek, releasing a soft sigh of contentment. Realizing how utterly inane any words would be at this moment; Matthew closed the remaining distance between them and brought her lips to his in the sweetest of kisses. It was a deep, searching kiss, and when Matthew pulled back for breath, the inevitable question bubbled past his lips.

"Lady Mary, will you marry me?"

"Yes."

Another kiss, this time mare passionate, their lips and tongues clashing, hot breaths mingling and entwining with one another. When they again surfaced for air, long repressed desire and need shone in their eyes, surpassed by only one other emotion.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

The power of language is never more prominent than in the declaration of those three words. Three simple words, one after another, possess a force that touches each and every one of us. Eight letters arranged just so, have the power to heal any wound, repair any damage. Three words have the power to change a life, _save_ a life, to make all the strife and heartache worthwhile. And there, on that day, those three words, uttered once by each set of lips, gave them reason to fight once more.

**So there we have it. My runaway one-shot has come to a close. Thank you so much to all of you who reviewed and added my humble little story to your alerts/ favorite lists, your support is what keeps me going :)!**

**Now that this is out of the way, I may be left in peace to work on the second part to ****Forever Silent****, which is finally coming along due to MASSIVE help from ThatsLadySeaMonsterToYou! If it wasn't for her, I would probably have a significantly smaller amount of hair left on my head ;). So keep a look out for that please!**

**ATudorRose Xxx**

**Just look at that darling little review button… that one just there… can't you hear it calling? **


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